It’s a process

Sorry, I’ve been next door. Writing cover letters. Pouring my heart and soul into those cover letters. For the past two weeks.

The tricky thing about cover letters is I’m completely desperate for something better than what I have right now, and I’m trying my damnedest not to convey that. I’m trying not to write, “For the love of God, give me a fucking chance already!” I hate that I’m this desperate. I hate that I get up every morning and go to my job and feel as though this might be it. Forever. Professionally, I might never amount to anything more than a coffee slinger.

So, while a big part of me feels sorry and pathetic, the tiny part that’s left is working on making me better. If I can’t be better professionally, I’ll be better at everything else. My black thumb is turning greener every day. I’ve got a small collection of plants that are thriving. And then there’s patience. Patience and I are acquaintances right now, but I hope we’re good friends someday. I could learn a lot from her. Like, maybe she’ll teach me some deep breathing exercises for when I’m exhausted and come home to a sink full of dirty dishes. Oh, and there’s bravery too. I don’t think the old me would have biked home late at night down a very busy street. Yes, I think that’s bravery.